


Good Girls Go To Heaven

by FinalOwen



Category: Bat Out Of Hell: The Musical - Steinman
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bi!Raven, F/F, Femslash, Non-Canon Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-09 23:40:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17414768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FinalOwen/pseuds/FinalOwen
Summary: Raven's locked up in Falco Towers, like a good girl. But nobody ever asked her if she wanted to be a good girl. And every night, she tries to imagine every inch of her dreams, of the wasted youth that she's seen in the streets below. But this time, Strat's nowhere to be found.





	Good Girls Go To Heaven

There was so little of Obsidian that she could see through her window that Raven always thought she knew the city better by the sounds it made. Obsidian wasn’t the dilapidated skyscraper peaks that poked through the dirty, polluted air. It was the songs that echoed past them from the streets below. It was the howling and the moaning and the crying of the lonely. It was the haunting whispers of winds that chilled her to the bone just from the sound.

And that night, which might have otherwise seemed like any other, she could hear something else. Far off in the murky distance, there was something rising. And not just the sound of footsteps in unison as her father’s militia stalked the streets, like the steady backbeat of the city. There was screaming, and chanting. What were they saying?

* * *

“Wasted youth!” came the rallying cry through the crowd, as two battle lines were drawn. On one, the sinister soldiers in their body armour and skull-like helmets, a memento mori for anyone who dared to cross them. And on the other, the gangs of Obsidian. What few of them remained. The group seemed like a patchwork, each little group in different themed outfits, but all forming something of a cohesive stand. And there at the front of the pack were the Lost, in their leather jackets and makeup that seemed more like battle paint.

But as much as they postured, you could see the unease on their faces, staring down the ranks of militia. There was a point where Falco had something of a detente with them. They’d clash, but rarely did it escalate beyond scuffles. The militia would rough the gang up and try to scatter them, but there was never any serious violence. But now, he was planting explosives and flooding the tunnels below the city, doing everything he could to flush them out and extinguish them as he had done to so many other gangs. There were none of the Golden left among them, or the Bombers, or the Warriors. So many friends and enemies alike extinguished by the crackdowns.

But the unease faded as their leader stepped forward. It was hard to be scared with this wild, reckless figure alongside them. And again the cry went out.

“Wasted youth!”

* * *

Raven was glued to the spot by her open window, ignoring the cold as she listened to the chaos. But she leapt back at the sound of a loud explosion, the heat radiating through the Obsidian air as glass and concrete cascaded down from one of the buildings below. Oh no, her father wasn’t going to like this, that was one of his new housing projects… As if he wasn’t angry enough of late.

She could hear the battle getting closer, and wondered how long she could wait and watch, hoping for a chance to see them outside the tower. She knew that her father would kill her if he caught her peering out of the window. He tended to get even more protective – stifling, even – when the Lost were around. Much as she’d prodded, her mother had so far refused to tell her why he reserved such enmity for them. He insisted they were dangerous, that he was trying to make Obsidian safe for good girls like her, but Raven couldn’t be scared of them. They fascinated her. Their freedom. She couldn’t picture any of them spending their time cooped up in Falco Tower. Especially their fearless leader, the one who’d thus far kept them safe from her father’s clutches. The one whose name he cursed every day. The name that Raven had obsessed over ever since she’d heard it for the first time.

_Zahara._

Raven had only spotted her in the crowds once or twice, and even then just a few bare details. The blue leather. The chainsaw she wielded with reckless abandon cutting through the militia that dared to threaten her pack. And that mane of ginger hair that Raven obsessed about so much that she’d started to see it everywhere, even comparing her nursemaid’s own red hair to it in her mind. 

But then, she didn’t have many other choices to project onto. There were the easily scandalised courtiers who blushed with horror at the antics of her parents, the stuffy tutors who were barely able to teach her anything she didn’t already know. Yeah, when she thought about it, even the nurse who gave her the dream suppressants was a more likely outlet for Raven’s desires. Even if her sleep was peaceful and uninterrupted by fantasies, in the small gaps of privacy Raven got, she could take the time to imagine every inch of her dreams.

And yet Raven found herself doubting if she would ever get the chance to see Zahara up close. Dreaming was one thing, but she wanted it to be something she could reach out and feel. She edged closer to the window again, and the Lost were almost in the square outside the tower. Tantalisingly close. Was she down there?

“You were told to go to sleep!” She almost jumped out of her skin as her mother’s hand clasped on her shoulder. She backed away towards her bed as if to pretend way too late to be on her way to sleep, but regretted it almost instantly as Sloane swung the window shut, taking with it the sounds of the streets below. Obsidian was lost to her once again. 

“Mom, no, don’t close the-” Her words faded with a rattling, choking sound like all the air in the room had vanished, and she rolled back onto the bed with a thud. Sloane gave a wry smirk in response. Disappointing, really, Raven missed the mad chuckle her mother used to deliver whenever she got too dramatic.

“Ok, time for bed.” Sloane began to pull the sheets up over Raven, but she wasn’t ready to sleep yet. Not with all these thoughts racing through her mind. Thoughts of the Lost’s leader, and all the questions that had gone unanswered… Maybe start at the beginning and build her way up?

“Mom, why are they different? The Lost, I mean? How come they never get any older?”

“Because they don’t have a mother who loves them as much as I. Love. You.” Ah, there it was. It was the answer she must have given a thousand times already, every time this question came up, getting more singsong each time. But Raven couldn’t leave it at that, not this time.

“I’m not a kid any more. I’ve been waiting since my birthday for you to realise that. Just tell me. Please?”

“Ok...” said Sloane, uneasily. She glanced over at the drinks cabinet, and Raven took the chance to jump out of bed and start pouring something out for her. This was already further than she usually got, and her mom was usually more chatty after a drink. 

Raven had been making her cocktails for years, it was a way to keep her around talking longer into the night, and she considered herself pretty good at it by this point. Who’d have thought you could become a mixologist while locked up in a tower? That had to be worth a few bad girl points. Well, aside from the times she purposefully avoided adding any alcohol, worrying about how often her mother was drinking. Most of the time she still acted the same afterwards, using the excuse to poke fun at Falco’s foibles with impunity, letting him overlook it as the drink talking, and Raven wasn’t sure whether Sloane herself noticed the difference at all. But this time.. She had to avoid her guilty conscience as the spirits mixed in the glass. She wanted as few barriers between her and the information she needed as possible.

Sloane took the glass, downing most of it, and glancing out at the riot below… “Those kids, out there in the street… They’re mutants. Nobody knows how or why, but ever since the chemical wars, they’ve been damaged, genetically. Their DNA frozen forever at the age of 18...” She loomed closer to Raven, sweeping up the arms of her robe like something from a horror film. “ _Freezers!_ From before the before, before the earthquakes that swept us out to sea! Forever lost, dangerous monsters who hate good girls like you!” Raven cast her gaze downward at that one, and Sloane paused for just a second, before swooping down and sitting beside her, carrying on as if nothing had happened. “Doomed to be wild and reckless, with no parents to look after them, no one to love them and no one to care!”

“Is that supposed to be scary? Because it sounds wonderful.” 

“It depends on how you look at it. To be forever eighteen and irresponsible?” There was a long pause, and beneath the amateur dramatics Raven thought that she saw the hints of sadness and nostalgia in her mother’s eyes. Then came the last words. “… It’d be fucking great.”

Raven burst out with laughter, and so did Sloane. Oh, she’d missed her mom’s laugh. “Mom, you are so inappropriate sometimes.”

“I am fuckin’ not!”

Now the two of them were almost collapsing with giggles. And Raven didn’t want to ruin it. She didn’t want to bring back the melancholy version of her mother that she’d seen these last few months. But this might be her last chance. She was eighteen now, and if that was the age they all became frozen… Well, even if she didn’t know how it happened, what if she missed the chance to be exposed to whatever did cause them to freeze? Because it probably wasn’t waiting in the tower.

“And… Why does dad hate them so much?”

As Raven suspected, the laughter dried up quickly. Sloane bit her lip, not knowing how much to say. There were so many memories, and so many regrets. “We had to grow up.” she said, hoarsely. “And he never got the chance to grow up with us… And now he’s gone.”

That seemed even more enigmatic than the horror movie explanation, but Raven could sense the pain in her mother’s voice, and didn’t know what to say in reply… Which was why she was so relieved when Sloane stood up, wobbling slightly.

“Baby, it is too late for me but it is not too late for you.” She declared. “I am not gonna let you make the same mistakes I made. I want you to be free, and to fall in love…” Sloane walked over to Raven’s wardrobe, and pulled out the battered leather jacket that she’d given her all those weeks ago on her birthday. “Put this on. We’re going out.”

“Really?” Out out? Outside? She could hardly believe it. This wasn’t how it was meant to go, was it? But Sloane seemed resolute. “But what about Dad, what about-”

“Raven, sweetie. If you don’t go over the top, how are you gonna see what’s on the other side?”

And Raven wasn’t going to argue with that.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh hey, for once I'm doing something that isn't a one shot. There's more to come in this one, not least because the main pairing haven't even met yet. But rather than sitting on this forever waiting for the writing urge to come, having this out there should give me a bit more motivation. And hey, we don't all have the money to get back to Germany right now, so we've gotta get our Bat fix somehow.
> 
> I mentioned before wanting to do a bunch of non canon romances, and stuck everyone into a random generator, and when this came out, it seemed too perfect. Some of the others not so much, but we'll get to that eventually. But I've got some hopefully interesting ideas to come, and going to throw in a bunch of my favourite headcanons in along the way. (Mixologist Raven is real in every timeline, prove me wrong.) And hell, thanks to Bat Chat, this even has two perfect ship names, so is it Zahaven or Rahara?


End file.
